Fremennik Adventures!
by Beccinator
Summary: Okay, so, my friend and I wrote this in, like, 6th or 7th grade. We lost it for a few years when my computer screen busted, but now it's fixed! Sooo.. She's been bugging me to upload it on here so we can reminisce over how creative we were... heh... hehehe. Enjoy?


FREMENNIK ADVENTURES: The Prequel

By: Rakkal the Mage and Rakdur the Renegade.

One fine night, Rakkal the Mage and Rakdur the Renegade were asleep, so you'll have to wait for them to wake up...

One fine morning, Rakkal and Rakdur woke up to the most amazing thing they'd ever seen in their Fremennik lives! Beer. Oh, how they admired the fuzzy wuzzy feeling that alcoholic beverage issued upon them! But they had no idea this might be the last taste of beer they would ever consume... They searched high and low for beer. Sigli had seen none, Swensen had not a drop either. Beer was nowhere to be found in this lone Fremennik village.

The pair crept into the longhall, not a drop in sight, and pickpocketed Manni the Reveller, the most well known drunk in town. They came across a slip of paper, along with 45 thieving experience, etched with strange drawings of a shining golden sheep and a deliciously foamy barrel of cold beer. "What does this mean?" Rakkal asked aloud. "Uhhmmm... Drunken sheep?" Rakdur estimated, puzzling over the untidy scrawlings. "Maybe if you boil sheep...You get beer?" Rakkal asked, puzzled. "Or if you boil beer, you get sheep..."

Rakdur strode to the door in her Zamorak plate and rainbow boots, looking quite baffled. Rakkal, in her flowing Dark Mystic robes, followed closely behind. They were about to explore the outskirts of town when Sigli the Huntsman appeared from behind the cabbage patch. "Oh, Sigli!" Rakkal and Rakdur both exclaimed. "We're going to explore the outskirts out town for sheep to boil and make beer!" Sigli stared at them for a long while before smacking both of them upside the head. "Fools! There is no beer made from sheep! The real way is to shear the wool of the most precious lamb, and have it turned to liquid. At this point, you would have to have it blessed by the Beer Gods of the Falador Party Room!"

They walked off puzzled, forgetting that they forgot what a Falador was. "Where do we get a gold lamb to be blessed by Beer Gods?" Rakkal huffed, confused. "Now I believe Sigli said Golden Lamb Feathers, Rakkal," Rakdur corrected. "Oh, well in that case, let's go get some... Where in the name of Zammy will we find lambs?" Rakdur thought this over, before saying "Let's go ask that troll that guards the golden sheep over to the east, maybe he knows where we can find one!" Rakkal blinked dumbly for a moment before exclaiming "Let's go!" with a stupid grin on her face.

So they skipped off out of town, passed the mysterious butterfly a few times, ran into a hill full of bunnies and a singing tree, and finally reached the lair of the troll cook, Lalli. Both of the Fremennik drunks stared at this stony figure while he had his finger lodged in his left nostril. Lalli had apparently not noticed them, for he was obviously not a very bright one. "LALLI!" Rakkal and Rakdur shouted at the troll, startling the unintelligent creature and causing him to stagger back, his hand and booger finger flying out from his nose and barely missing Rakdur's face. Rakdur screeched and flopped behind Rakkal screaming, "BOOGERS!"

After they had calmed themselves, and readied to speak to the troll, they did. Lalli grunted "What humans want. You no steal apples! They Lalli's apples! All Lalli's!" Rakkal flailed her hands, trying to calm the troll, saying "We no want - I mean, we don't want your apples. We wanted to know if you had any golden lambs lying around." The dim troll scratched his noggin, and said "No lamb. Only sheep."

The Fremenniks' faces fell in dismay, realizing they had no clue what a lamb was in the first place. "Whut's a lamb...?" Rakdur asked blankly. Before anyone could answer, the Sandwich Lady appeared in a puff of purple smoke. "Oi, this ain't Piscatoris. Th' hunters are gonna get away!" she hollered, readying herself to teleport, with the aid of a magical sandwich or something, before Rakkal screeched "Wait!" The old lady paused in annoyance, saying "Oi, make it quick." The two Fremenniks blurted "Can you tell us what a lamb is?!"

"A lamb is a form of infant sheep, I do quite so believe, m'dears," the sandwich professional stated intelligently, before teleporting away. "...No lamb. Only sheep," Lalli stated again. "Can we have a baby sheep then?" Rakdur asked. "Ha, sheep useless... No take Lalli's apples!" Rakkal sighed disappointedly. "We're never gonna get any beer. Let's just steal the stupid thing." Rakdur skipped out of the troll's lair, saying a simple "Okay!", Rakkal following closely behind.

They stood before the menacing fence, incasing the sheep within its walls. "Agility level of 50? I don't have 50 agility!" Rakkal yowled. "Me either!" Rakdur clucked, frustrated.

All of the sudden, a mysterious butterfly swooped down upon them and took the shape of a man... "Zezima! Can I have all your expensive belongings and money!?" Rakkal asked hopefully, staring in wonder at Zezima's expensive attire. "Nope." Zezima jumped over the fence and threw a small sheep over at them. In a haste to catch the lamb, Rakkal and Rakdur jumped into each other and fell into a heap, the lamb falling on top of them, _baa_ing smoothly. There were spontaneous fireworks combusting in midair. "Woot! Ninety-nine thieving!" Zezima exclaimed, and magically teleported in a flash. They heard in the distance a faint cry of victory, "Woot! Ninety-nine mage! Noobs!"

"What just happened?" Rakkal asked, trying to stand. "I got a sheep on mah back," Rakdur mumbled, face pressed into the dirt by the small animal's weight. Rakkal picked up the sheep, saying "It looks like Brundt!" The sheep did indeed look like the chieftan, having a huge nose and tiny black eyes. "Whut?" Rakdur asked, spitting out soil. "You got your armour dirty!" Rakkal fretted, staring at the now dirt-caked Zammy plate in horror. Rakdur sighed.

"Now, do you happen to be sporting a pair of shears, Rakdur?" Rakkal asked her best friend. "Why, yes I do indeed!" Rakdur answered, and pulled out a trusty pair of shears. They surrounded the lamb and clipped away at the soft golden fleece. "These don't feel like feathers." Rakdur said before throwing the bald lamb back over the fence in a chorus of _BAAA!_

After Rakdur stowed her shears away, they walked back towards the village, hands filled with golden wool, planning on locating Sigli so the two could find out how to turn the feathers into liquid.

Somewhere in town behind the longhall, Sigli was located stuffing his face with fish. "Whatcha got there, Siggles?" Rakkal asked. Sigli stared up blankly, his cheeks full of trout and herring. "Mmfmf hhmm fmm."

"Oh. Okay. So, we just came to ask you a question.."

"Mmmph?"

"How are we supposed to convert these feathers into liquid?" Rakdur questioned, tossing the wool in Sigli's face. Sigli flailed and emitted a choked screech as he jumped back and slapped at the wool. "I thought you were a huntsman, not an outerlander female youngling... Chicken," Rakdur scoffed. The form of Zezima appeared once again, a puff of multicolored smoke showering around him. He pointed an accusing finger in Sigli's direction and hollered, "Woot! Ninety-nine insulting! Haha, noob!", and just like that, he disappeared once again.

"Yeah," Sigli mumbled, a tear forming in his eyes. Rakdur narrowed his eyes at Sigli. "Are you about to-

"NOOOOOOOOOOO!" Sigli burst into dramatic tears and whined at the peak of his power. Rakkal and Rakdur muffled a laugh and attempted to cheer Sigli up with no success. Apparently saying "I think your a not-noob", and chuckling everytime a tear fell doesn't cheer anyone up.

The Huntsman snuffled and sobbed for at least five more minutes before managing to say, "Set it in direct sunlight for two weeks." Rakkal and Rakdur stared at the blubbering noob for a minute, before Rakkal said "Forget that! Two weeks without beer is a death sentence!" and casted fire wave on the wool. "You owe me a blood rune, noob," she growled a Sigli. The Huntsman burst into tears once again. Rakdur dumped a bucket of compost onto the ground so they could put the melted feathers in it for easier transportation.

They set off in a random direction before realizing they forgot that they forgot that they still forgot what a Falador was. They stopped and asked a local from Seers' Village in which direction they should travel. She explained which roads to take and signs to observe. "Uhh, let's try this..." Rakkal and Rakdur were so confused, they decided to take their runes and teleport to Falador.

The two Fremenniks appeared in front of a statue of the good god, Saradomin. "We're in Falador, right? We better find this Party Room place," Rakkal said, stating the obvious. They cornered a noobish level 15 ranger and forced him to give them directions. They set off in the direction he had specified, soon reaching the colorful building, a sign saying 'Falador Party Rooms' crookedly nailed above the door.

The fair sized party room had a checkered tile floor and two staircases leading to the upper level. The party room was deserted, all except for a spunky dancing man wearing a red partyhat and his pet chameleon. Both Rakkal and Rakdur stepped up to the odd pair and asked, "Have you seen the Beer Gods of the Falador Party Room?" Party Pete's eyes shot open wide, and the chameleon turned the color of the floor below in hopes of not being seen. "Beer Gods? There's no such thing! Off you go! Out!" And with that, Party Pete kicked their rumps out of the room.

"I thought people at parties were s'posed to be nice," Rakkal grumbled, rubbing her head where she had hit a table leg. "...What if we showed him our feathers?" Rakdur asked, hefting the bucket, which hadn't spilled yet.


End file.
